Eclipse of the Gods
by AquaAdept
Summary: When you have forsaken your Gods, then you will find only death...
1. Chapter 1

**Yes. Its me, back from the dead. I thought I would try my hand at writing something actually epic. For the time being, I'm putting SoW on hold, as it grew tiresome with so many characters, and no clear idea of how they should interact.**

**So, for now I will write this. When I get time. Hopefully. Cue evil laughter**

* * *

The wind swept throughout the forest. The mighty ferns creaked in the gusts, swaying from side to side. The air was cold, the ground damp from recent rain. The full moon hung high in the sky, bathing the area in an unearthly light. The single roughly paved and winding road wound through the forest like a snake, trees clumsily hewn around it. 

A small haphazard collection of wooden buildings stood in a great clearing beside the road. Their frames were hewn from mighty oaks. Smoke puffed from the chimney of one, a small fire visible inside it. A watchtower stood in the centre of the complex. Guards patrolled nearby, sharp spears carried in their arms. Their crimson and silver armour glinted, showing a design of a mighty eagle with wings spread wide, mounted upon a lofty mountain peak.

The guards kept watch, albeit lazily. One yawned, scratching at his helmet. He was tired, his body unused to the rigours of the watchmen. Every bone in his body ached, every limb felt like lead. His watch was nearly over. He longed fro rest, and a comfy bed, even if it would be for only several hours. Questions plagued his exhausted mind.

Quite why anyone would wish to place the borders of a country smack bang in the middle of one of the largest and most ancient forests in the world was beyond him. It was not the sort of question that he even bothered to think of an answer for.

There were other things that worried him more. Hyrule, Karias's large and for the most, benevolent, neighbour was quiet these days. Too quiet almost. For years the watchmen had grown accustomed to the procession of carts and caravans moving through the forest, bringing goods to and from Hyrule. Slowly, they had lessened in both number and frequency, until the forest road was almost deathly silent.

"Oi! Dan, you still with us??"

Unfortunately, there were things he _did _have to think about, whether he liked it or not.

"How many times, kid," his commanding officer chided, "must I remind you that we are tasked to protect this crossing? Not to wander vaguely off into the realms of fantasy."

That was Commander Michael for you. A man of relentless passion for his duty and an even more relentless fighter, a veteran by all accounts. If there was one man in the entire gods-darn kingdom you could count on, it would be the commander. Still, it was some surprise to the now-rare visitors that he was so well liked by his men.

"So…you got that?" The commander finished, tilted his helmet back slightly, and crossing his arms.

Daniel shook his head. "Yes. Sorry, sir."

But he had heard it all before. At least a dozen times. Why the worry? Nothing ever happened around here, anyway. He moaned inwardly. Why couldn't he have been placed somewhere interesting, like the eastern deserts? At least it was hot there…

"What was that?" One of the guards had whipped around, clutching his weapon.

"What?" said another, instantly cocking his spear forwards, his eyes skimming the area.

The first watchman shrugged. "Nothing, Just a wolf, I guess."

Daniel held his spear in front of him. Dark beasts lived in the forest at night, he knew. Slowly, he walked forwards, holding his spear at the ready. He stared into the darkness of the forest, from which the road emerged like a starved tongue. A cloud skirted over the moon. The darkness seemed to be deepening. The forest seemed denser than it had several moments before.

Suddenly, a deep sound reverberated through the forest, a deep ominous chime, as if some bell had been struck far away. The soldiers glanced around hurriedly, as the ground shook slightly, sending birds pouring from the tress into the night sky. Quickly, the vibration was followed by several others, lighter in tone, but far shriller. The din was ear splitting. The men placed their hands over their ears, groaning in pain and agony. Wolves howled in the forest.

As quickly as the sounds had come, they ceased, the vibrations carried away over the distant mountains. Sheer stillness seemed to seep into its place. The forest held its breath. Every man stood at the ready. The light from the cabin was extinguished, the smoke silenced.

Through the dark and grim eves came another sound, one that filled the guards with a seething terror. The sound of rattling armour and spears. The sound of impatient horses and their riders. The sound of hundreds upon hundreds of marching feet, and barked orders. Torch lights flicked through the trees in the distance. The sentries on the watchtower had halted, silently starring out into the wood.

Slowly, each man froze, their hands shaking. Weapons fell to the floor, yet no one made a motion to retrieve them. The commander's eyes widened, as if to penetrate the darkness that seemed to extend before them. Finally he spoke, slowly, as if to prolong his judgement.

"They are coming."

And through the trees, the army came.

* * *

**Ha ha! Bet that caught you by surprise? No? Bah. You're no fun.**

**Oh yes, I was inspired to write this in part by Sunruner's awesome Matters of State.**

**Now, dance my puppets. And of course, review my reviewers.**


	2. Chapter 2

**To my very confused readers, all will be revealed. Suffice to say this story will contain a lot of OCs, but I will try my best to make them believable (no Mary Sues here). Don't worry, more than one or two familiar characters will pop up.**

**Xakattak: Yes, mostly. I took inspiration from TP (and most of the map), but most of the characters are from other games, since this is set _many _hundreds of years after TP. Also, I thought three countries wasn't enough, so I enlisted some more.**

* * *

Sunken City wasn't much of a place to live. It had fallen into a state of disrepair many a year ago, and a combination of shoddy workmanship and planning decades later had resulted in overcrowding. It wasn't even a proper city, more like a large town that had got out of hand.

The perpetual dampness didn't make living there any easier. There was always the danger of falling into pitfalls, or sunken holes filled with water. But generally speaking, it was only visitors that had to watch out; the locals knew their way around well enough.

Despite all its problems, the city had a quiet beauty to it. Perhaps that was what had attracted Anja's family to it, almost a hundred years ago, in the time of the Hero. Sure, then it was more backwater, and less developed, but Anja could still see why her grandmother's family settled there.

It was autumn, and the golden leaves were falling slowly, drifting downwards, forming a thin film over the waterways, and acting as a constant reminder of the Oracle who protected the land. Hollodrum's climate was far more constant these days, the seasons running one after another slowly, with summer's heat continuing into autumn's grey twilight. Nights were cold, but less so than they used to be. Summers were milder.

Through the drifting leaves Anja pushed forwards, her heavy boots splashing in the water. Her long emerald hair was drawn back in a ponytail, which gently bobbed back and forth in the chilly breeze. She was barely older than seventeen, yet she carried much responsibility on her shoulders, alongside the food bought from the local market. Quietly, Anja threaded her way through the puddles and water-logged streets to a fork in the road. Taking the right path, she came to a series of steeps, cut roughly into the hill itself, a sign of the city's expansion.

It was certainly much larger than it had been centuries before. Houses were jumbled together like a child's building blocks. All faced north, over the ridges and valleys to the north, and to the highest peaks of Hollodrum. Standing on the second level of the city, Anja could see for many miles in all directions. The air was clearer up here too, away from the main streets below. Here there were only several houses, spread out further, and separated by many trees and groves.

Hers was one of them. Anja paced along a narrow path, happy to feel firm ground beneath her feet again. She passed into a small glade of trees, and was met with her house. It was certainly not large, and looked rather ram shackled from the entrance, but Anja did call it home. Gripping her bag rather more tightly than she should of done, she slowly opened the front door. There was peace for all of two seconds, then she was met by a chorus of voices, and many small hands. Her brothers and sisters danced around her, laughing, crying and screaming all at once.

"Hey, Anja, Matty's pulling my hair!"

"No I wasn't!"

"Oh yes you were!"

"Matthew! Don't hit your sister!" Anja chased him away with a broomstick lying handily beside the door.

"Hey, Anja, got any food?"

She sighed. They could be quite a handful sometimes. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a large, juicy apple, and tossed it to Samuel, a manic looking nine year old. He scoffed it quickly, taking bites that seemed far too large for his mouth.

"Hey," Anja said, tapping him on the shoulder, "don't eat so fast. You'll choke."

He gulped loudly, then belched. "Sorry, sis," he added. Anja could tell he didn't mean a word of it, but it didn't bother her.

The house seemed tiny for such a large family (many of her brothers and sisters slept together in one room), but compared to some in the city, who lived in poverty, she felt blessed. Thankfully, she didn't have to raise the kids all by herself, at least not all of the time. Her uncle would usually come in to give her a hand, when he wasn't away on 'business'. Today, he was late, as per usual.

Anja's ears pricked up. There seemed to be a loud banging noise coming from the roof of the house. There was a sound of clanging tin, and an even louder thump. The chimney rattled violently, like it was about to vomit. A man's voice could be heard, shouting and cursing. Suddenly, a small figure appeared crumpled in the fireplace, showering dust throughout the room.

He was bent over in a heap, as if he had fallen from a great height. His long, purple robes were covered in dirt from the chimney, and his jet black beard and hair were both clogged with soot. He clutched a wizened old broomstick, which was bent at a strange angle, in his left hand. The man dusted himself down, and coughed loudly. "Hello, my dear." A blackened hat drifted downwards, and landed at his feet. Smiling, he picked it up, and held it in his right hand.

Anja rolled her eyes. "Hello uncle." Not many girls of her age would be unfazed by the sudden and loud appearance of a middle-aged man in their living room, but Anja was quite used to such goings on. Ever since her childhood, her uncle, Tobias, had quite literally been 'dropping in', broomstick and all. In sixteen years he had hardly improved his entrance. They said clumsiness ran in the family. And she could see why.

Despite his actions, he wasn't what you would call lazy. Quite to the contrary, he was always inventing wild ideas as to help the family gain a reliable source of income. Some were strangely inventive, others bordered on the moderately insane. Suffice to say, Anja took all his ideas with significantly more than a pinch of salt. Sometimes she wished he would just settle down and get a proper job, rather than spend all his time riding around on his broomstick, or running his musty apothecary in more or less solitary confinement. The majority of the town regarded him as a coot, but they were quiet happy to go to him if their pet needed healing herbs, or they had a strange sickness, for he was incredibly clever.

Together, the two shepherded the youngsters outside. Tobias whipped out his wand, and with a quick flick of his wrist, summoned a oddly shaped ball from thin air. His younger nephews and nieces clapped. He tossed it to Samuel. "Can I trust you to organise something relatively peaceful?"

Sam nodded. "Of course, uncle."

Tobias ruffled his hair. "Good lad," he said, then gestured to Anja for her to come inside again. She nodded, and walked inside, closing the door behind her. Her uncle collapsed into a chair in the main room, looking exhausted, and wafting himself with his hat.

Very exhausted in fact. Looking closer, Anja could scarcely remember a time he had come 'in' looking so tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his face was drawn.

Anja looked at him, genuinely concerned. "Are you okay?," she asked. "What happened?"

Her uncle looked up. "Oh, nothing much," he said, sounding as if the exact opposite was true. "Just a hard day, that's all." Somehow Anja doubted that. How it could be harder than hers, _every_ day, was something she had trouble believing. "I've decided," he said, suddenly sitting bolt upright. "I'm selling the shop. Its been on my mind for far too long."

"What!" Anja was dumbfounded. She stared at him, mouth wide. "Uncle, how are we going to cope? How can we manage? How can we…" she broke off, and buried her face in her hands.

Tobias smiled, reached over, and gently squeezed her hand. "We'll manage," he said simply. Despite his clumsiness and somewhat vague nature, he deeply cared for the family. He leant back in his chair, as his niece looked on sullenly. "Oh, I heard something interesting as well," he added whimsically, tossing his hat onto a grim-looking rack beside the mantelpiece.

"Huh."

"Hyrule launched an invasion."

* * *

**Ahhh. I hope this doesn't sound cliché already. Nevertheless my first main is related to a certain…bizarre…Zelda character. Any guesses?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Again we're going places. Yes, this is a Hyrulian invasion. And now...**

* * *

Blast and confound it all!

The King of Labrynna paced back and forth, gesturing wildly, in his mansion. Not that times like this hadn't been hard on his country, or his people. The threat posed by other emerging nations was enough to make one's hair stand on end dif they knew the truth, and older nations possessed enough power to invade if they chose.

The entire north-east was like a powder keg, just waiting for someone to emerge with a lit splint, and set off a devastating explosion.

That explosion was the invasion of Karias, the blazing splint General Ledla, and the mysterious King he served.

He knew little of the either man. From what his spies had gathered recently, and what he already knew from when he had once accompanied the King on a state visit to his land, he held great power and sway in Hyrule. He was also merciless, often giving chase to those who fled the battlefield and hacking them to pieces. Hyrule's king was more mysterious still, often governing in complete solitude. He appeared only at parade days, just to show the world he was still alive. The last time he had been seen in public was over three years ago, then fourteen years into his reign. He had to admit, he paled in comparison to his father, and others who came before him.

A picture hung above a mantelpiece on the wall, a portrait of a stern looking man,. King Lysander smiled. It held a likeness of his own father, the first ruling monarch in over five hundred years.

True some of his details were slightly off (the painter had given him blue eyes instead of green), but it captured his fiery essence well. He carried a burning rapier in his right hand, a symbol of justice and righteous wrath. Right until his early death, he had been adored by the populace. His coronation was unmatched in terms of splendour, until his marriage, both of which the Hero Link himself attended. His wife was similarly loved by the people, and well known, for she had once been the Oracle of Ages. She bore him but one son, the man who looked upon his father's portrait now, and then died soon after.

They said the King's heart died with her. Nevertheless, his own funeral was perhaps the most sorrowful event in Labrynna's recent history . Thousands lined the way to the banks of the great ocean, where the body of King Raphael I was finally laid to rest, alongside that of his dear wife.

Even then, he had asked for his name to be inscribed as simply 'Ralph', a simple man until the end. King Lysander saluted swiftly, then inclined his head.

Perhaps the whole world needed a little more humility…

* * *

Captain Galir of Hyrule's 18th Infantry Battalion gulped. He was no weakling, and certainly no coward, but he faced discipline and explaining why he had not secured the area, two weeks since a surprise attack by a rabble of sell-swords that had left six dead and twenty wounded. A young messenger ran towards him, quite out of breath. "Sir," he panted, "message from high command. You will report at once, sir."

The captain starred at the young emissary. He had been expecting this, but it still chilled him. "I will go, of course."

Karias had mostly fallen, its armies deserting the battlefields and fleeing before the might of Hyrule's grand army. Even so, with most of the country under their control, there were those who still resisted, rebels who fought on. Last week there had been a terrifying and seemingly well-planned attack, with fourteen highly trained Hyrulian knights butchered alive by cloaked assassins.

Now he would have to explain himself for that failure as well, and that terrified him. He feared the general who would he would have to explain himself to.

Ledla.

Slowly, he swept up a hill, into an area where the tents were far and few between. One stood apart slightly, at the top of a small hill, overlooking the rest of the camp. The generals tent was quiet. Not a single sign betrayed the man who sat within it. A crow sat outside it, pulling at the remains of a long-dead rabbit. Its body had started to rot. The bird turned to the face the captain, its grim, red eyes viewing him as if in warning. Pulling on last time at its meal, the bird spread its wings and flew onto the top of the tent, eyeing the captain.

With more than a hint of dread, the captain raised his hand to tug open the tents flags. They flapped open easily, and slowly he pulled himself inside. He stood at attention, his helmet in his hands, and pretended not to notice they were shaking. A table stood in front of him, laid with battle plans and maps.

The man standing before him was shrouded in the twilight that seemed to resonate within, the tent's thick material having blocked out most of the light from the day outside. Very little of him was visible, his face shrouded in shadow. His jet-black boots and greaves, shined to perfection and reflecting what little light drifted in from outside, were all that was clearly visible of him.

Slowly Ledla's eyes fell on his captain before him. The general radiated a powerful energy that seemed to make all men cower before him. The captain shook. "General Ledla, please forgive me!" He could take it no longer, and collapsed to his knees, bringing his shaking hands up to his face.

"I would have you answer for the loss of the brave troops, and the insurgency," the general spoke, his voice melancholy and deep. "I would have you answer in the name of the King."

The captain nodded. "Yes, sir, I can explain."

Ledla tutted. "Can you now? Or would you prefer to remain quiet?" he added. The captain thought he saw a blade glistening in the dark.

"Sir, I admit the defences were less than adequate, but I promise you, I will not fail again!"

"I know you shall not, Captain Galir" his master spoke, his voice full of satisfaction.

The captain staggered to his feet, wiping his sweaty brow beneath his visor. "Thank you, sir, I won't disappoint you again." He made a motion to leave the tent.

A voice hissed behind him, dangerously soft. "Did I say you could leave?"

The captain looked confused. With ruthless effectiveness, General Ledla raised his sword into the air, and brought it sweeping swiftly down, cutting the captain's right hand clean off. His helmet fell to the floor with a clatter. The shocked man fell to the floor. In vain he fought the desire to cry, but could not hold back his tears. He sobbed openly.

Slowly, Ledla resheathed his sword, glancing at his captain with contempt. "You may leave now," he said, speaking clearly and quietly, sweeping his gauntleted hand towards the tent entrance. "Please do not disappoint the King, or your country," he added,

The captain nodded, cradling his remaining bloody stump with his left hand. "Yes sir," he managed to croak, before stumbling backwards into daylight once more.

Ledla shook his head. If only he could deal with some true professionals. Failures deserved appropriate punishments. He knew better than to kill his own men in rage, that would be unforgivable, but he had permission from the crown to use 'motivation' in whatever way possible. Losing a limb was sometimes the best way of doing that. He didn't dare disobey his majesty's orders at least, for even he was not immune to the law, or the hand that made it.

He tugged aside the flaps of the tent, and pulled a large stone across their base, keeping them open. A cat jumped across the laid table before him, spilling a vial of amber liquor. General Ledla ran his fingers of his left hand though his cat's fur. Taking hold of a pen in his right hand, he marked a large cross across Kailas' capital.

He would receive the orders for his final victory soon. And no amount of fools could stop him.

* * *

**Please, tell me ways I can make this guy more menacing. And I seriously need some more synonyms for 'cape'. And more fabrics. ARGGHHH.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yay me. I'm getting better at this. I think I've finally found a personality I like for Ledla. I apologise for his overlong sections, but I really enjoy writing them. Maybe its because he's sooo evil.**

**Roll camera.**

* * *

The war was going well, far better than General Ledla could even have hoped for. Kailas's armies fell quickly. With each mile they traversed, the resistance they met decreased. Now villagers practically threw upon their doors to them. They were in sight of the capital. Just one battle lay before them, the fight against the final remnant of Kailas's once proud forces. After that, their surrender would be imminent, and he would present the throne of their country to his King.

But still there were those who did fight on. Pathetic fools who would dared to challenge the might of the King. No, the Emperor. Ledla surveyed the battle from a high position atop the hills, with his fellow generals and subordinates, some from the time of King Dophanes, others having risen from the ranks.

Suddenly , a bolt thudded against his armour. It rattled off, but it felt as if someone had struck a gong against it. His leg seared with pain, despite the greaves he wore for protection. It happened again, rattling off but causing his mare to rear in fear. The bushes to the left rustled suspiciously.

Ledla's horse came smashing down again, stamping her hooves. He thought he caught a flash of blue dive down a narrow ditch, and away. Ledla charged forwards, swinging his blade into the gorse bush, nettles flying around him. Nothing.

Slowly he pulled a metal spyglass from a pocket, and opening it out, put it up to his eyes.

Gazing down onto the battlefield, he caught sight of the remaining royal guards fighting tooth and nail against his forces. Despite the amenity between them, Ledla felt a ghost of respect for them. At least they were unwaveringly loyal to their king, however decrepided and ancient he apparently was. In the distance, he caught sight of a navy blue form, a cloak swirled around its owner's shoulders, and a young man within it firing strange objects out of an aquamarine projectile launcher. His horse seemed wheezed.

Replacing his spyglass, Ledla barked a command to his subordinates. They gave the order, and the rear guard charged down the hills, mowing down the remaining opposition. Still the royal guard fought on, unwavering in their loyalty to the crown, and unmoved by sheer numbers. Their strength was legendary, the true shock troops of the Kailas Kingdom. But they were overwhelmed, in less of a battle, and more of a massacre. It did not stop them trying valiantly; showing no fear as the Hyrulian cavalry cut them limb from limb.

Ledla rode by. Suddenly he felt a sharp object rattle against his armour. A royal guard, too weak to hardly stand, and riddled with enough arrows to make a porcupine envious, thrust a notched longsword against his armour. Ledla jerked on his horse's reins, rearing his horse, and swung his sword down, beheading the soldier in one clean strike.

_Fool…_

The battle was soon over. The few survivors of the royal guards had given flight, or thrown themselves upon their own swords, rather than accept defeat. Ledla's blue assailant was nowhere to be seen. None of the bodies on the battlefield bared even the closest resemblance to the face he had seen in his spyglass: a thin, noble face, and crimson red hair carefully parted in the centre of his forehead.

The sun set over the field, turning the mutilated bodies of the royal guards a ghastly shade of crimson. With mild distaste, Ledla leant on his great sword, his leg throbbing where the object, later revealed to be a strange variety of seed, had struck. He turned his face towards the setting sun. Far away in the west, beyond the great sea, lay another land which had hidden enemies of the state for far too long. A fair sparrow had narrowly eluded an iron wolf's jaws, but this wolf was getting ravenous…

* * *

Tobias flew through the night air with all the haste of a hawk. The ground, miles below, was as a dark blur beneath him. Now and then the lights of a small town flashed into view then vanished suddenly again. Wind rushed past his face, smearing his black hair across his eyes and obstructing his vision. Rain lashed his soaking body.

Suddenly, his wand seemed to slide out from under his sleeve, right under his watching eyes, and slip out of his reach. In almost slow motion, he saw it tumble downwards, in a slow arch. Leaning forwards, Tobias drove his broom downwards. His face stretched and contorted as his dive became almost vertical. Finally he drew level ,and fumbling wildly, grabbed it with his left hand, his right desperately trying to prevent a rather messy death.

It wasn't like him to ever drop his wand. Suddenly the back of his broom flipped upwards, jerking him forwards. It banked sharply to the right, its owner struggling with its weird behaviour. It jerked again, almost throwing him off, then fell into flailing around. Tobias summoned his strength, and with a quick flick of his wrist, tapped the woodwork, muttering _"Ceasio." _

No matter what it was made of, no broom had ever had a mind of its own. It could only mean one thing. Someone, or something, was tampering with it. And the strength of the spell sent his mind racing. Despite his counter-spell the broom vibrated shallowly, as if it too was disturbed.

In all his years, he had only felt such a strong and cold presence once. He had been lucky then…

Leaning in against his broomstick, he shot off through the night sky like a sliver dart. Faster, faster. He needed more speed. Glancing over his shoulder quickly, Tobias noticed a storm forming on the horizon, a foreboding sign. Lightning flashed in the sky. Birds flew from it.

Suddenly, he found himself inside riding beside a flock of geese, their white wings obscuring his vision. Feeling into the animals' sense, Tobias noted that they too were aggravated. Speeding up, he soon passed the white birds. Mountains and fields rushed past in rapid succession, as he raced home.

The gentle warm light of Sunken City came into view. Stalling his broom, Tobias brought it into a tight dive, then pulled around to the right, circling down onto his niece's house. The storm swelled behind him. There was a clap of lighting.

With a quick manuevour, he was on the rooftop, then taxied to a halt and seized his broom in both hands. One sudden loud crash later indicated his arrival into the living room. He leapt to his feet, just in time to see his niece entering he room, carrying a small book under her arm. She was dressed for bed, and looked exhausted. For some reason she had not heard him enter. Suddenly she looked up, her face a perfect picture of surprise. Tobias put a finger over his mouth, and a hand over hers, indicating silence.

Light, clinking noises thudding gently against the roof; as if figures had suddenly landed down on it. Icy breath seemed to resonated down the chimney.

Tobias forcefully pushed his niece to the floor. "Don't move," he whispered firmly. There was total silence. No one moved, or dared to make a sound. Tobias clutched his wand like a sword, his face set grimly. He would fight if he needed to, but he stood little chance. But he had certainly no intention of letting Anja face them…

The noises began again, as if many figures were walking across the roof. Anja did not dare to breathe, her uncle's hand clasped over her mouth as if to even dispel the slightest thought of opening her mouth. Suddenly they stopped. Not even the threadbare carpet beneath their feet dared to rustle. Perhaps Anja's mind was playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn that icicles were forming around the rim of the chimney.

Something wet and putrid looking fell into the fireplace with a flump. The light sound reverberated around the room. Feet marched across the roof once more. The air was filled with a violent rushing, and the sound of wings. A gust of wind blasted down the chimney, tugging on Anja's hair.

From far away, Anja thought she heard a sound, a horrendous, animalistic laugh, which slowly gave way into creeping silence. Tobias pulled his hand away from her mouth. It was drenched in sweat. Slowly, he got up, and stood beside the chimney, listening. Her uncle glanced at her, his wand still held in his hand. It was truly remarkable what the threat of danger did to the man. From being a bumbling middle-aged fool, he had suddenly turned into an imposing figure. He stood beside the chimney for a long moment, just listening to the sounds above them. Finally, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

Anja let her body quake slightly. "Fine," she lied, smoothing down her dark hair. Her uncle shook his head, his eyes grim and foreboding.

"Tell the truth."

Anja shivered, holding herself with her hands. "Cold." She stared at the rotting object in the fireplace, which looked terrifyingly similar to…flesh… Suddenly she felt the urge to throw up.

Tobias nodded. "They do have that effect on most people."

"Who do?"

"Dark Magi."

* * *

Far away, a terrible roar of rage tore the sky asunder.

Evil's King stirred.

* * *

**Goodness. I'm making this to evil. I can't go on like this. The horror. **

**Pun intended. **

**EDIT: Some of my details seem a bit off, but I'm correcting them as I go. More will be explained later, I promise.**


End file.
